


Don’t You Ask Me to Give it Back

by Polaris



Series: I’m Not in Love [5]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Aleta is Yondu’s murder mom, Anal Sex, Back to our regularly scheduled raccoon porn, Established Relationship, I’m not sorry Sean Gunn, Jealousy, Oral Sex, Other, Polyamory, Ravager Politics, Rimming, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 16:39:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13057956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polaris/pseuds/Polaris
Summary: It’s stupid, that it’s taken this long for Rocket to really grasp exactly what Yondu lost when he shuttled kids for Ego. He didn’t just lose friends like he described to Rocket; he lost his position as Stakar Ogord’s surrogate son. Rocket’s managed to land himself a goddamn Ravager prince.He’d rather have Quill’s loser dad.





	Don’t You Ask Me to Give it Back

Supply runs used to be easy when there were only four of them trying to wrangle Groot. Or at least easy by Rocket’s standards, which meant that they had enough money for cheap dehydrated food and soap and toilet paper to last until the next time they got paid. And maybe a toy for Groot, if he picked a cheap one.

It’s a slightly different story with a crew of nine.

“Put it back,” Quill grits through clenched teeth.

“‘S fifty percent off!” Yondu crosses his arms. “You know how much we can save if you quit bein’ such a damn priss?”

“We are _not_ cheaping out on the toilet paper! I can’t believe we’re still fighting over this.”

“Me either! Yer bein’ damn extravagant, boy. Don’t need nothin’ fancy t’ wipe your ass with. Ain’t that big a deal.”

“The cheap stuff means you have to use more,” Quill growls. “It doesn’t actually cost you any less in the long run. And it’s scratchy.”

“Oh no, does yer poor li’l ass need the soft stuff?” Yondu rolls his eyes.

“Just put it back! We’re not broke anymore, we can have some nice things.” Quill keeps glaring until Yondu huffs off with the cheap toilet paper in his arms.

Rocket, perched on the side of the cart to watch the exchange, snorts.

“You could have jumped in at literally any point,” says Quill sourly.

“No way, this is cheaper than holonet an’ I still get entertained.” Rocket grins.

“You can laugh, you never got stuck with four sheets of that garbage after they ran out of the food that was compatible with your digestive system,” Quill mutters. “I was stranded in the bathroom for over an hour before someone got me another roll. And I know Kraglin ignored me at least once when I yelled for help.”

In Rocket’s defense, he does try not to laugh. He just doesn’t succeed very well.

“Dick,” Quill hisses, and pushes him off the cart.

Rocket gets to his feet and brushes himself off with a raised middle finger at Quill’s back.

“He still bitchin’ about that?” asks Yondu. “‘S been twenty years.”

“Nope. You scarred him for life,” says Rocket. “Now we all get to deal with the fallout.”

Yondu grunts. “Don’t need t’ rub it in,” he mutters.

Rocket looks at him and immediately feels like a jerk. “He turned out okay,” he says softly.

“Where’s Kraglin?” asks Yondu, and Rocket can’t help but wilt a little.

“He went off with the girls. They’re probably gonna come back with twelve boxes of Beasties and gun oil.”

Yondu strides off in the direction of the snacks, and Rocket stares after him.

—

Now, Rocket ain’t saying he’s insecure. That would be ridiculous, because he’s frigging awesome. It’s just that the minute somebody gets annoyed with him he starts thinking way in the back of his mind that maybe they’re deciding he ain’t worth all the shit he puts them through.

Okay, fine. He’s insecure.

Point is, Yondu’s been a little more touchy lately. Things that used to roll right off him, like digs about Quill, get him all huffy. And god knows Rocket ain’t great at being sensitive. He tries, for Yondu, but he’s not sure how to quit fucking up when his fuckups weren’t fuckups a month ago.

He probably shouldn’t be grateful that Kraglin’s in the same boat. And he’s not, not really. It’s just nice not to be the only one in the doghouse.

Kraglin gives him a sympathetic look when he tells him about it later. 

“‘S got t’ do with bein’ around Stakar,” he says. 

Rocket makes a face. “If that jackass is makin’ him feel bad about stuff, I swear I’ll bite his ear off.”

“I dunno what it is exactly.” Kraglin shakes his head and strokes the back of his fingers under Rocket’s chin.

Rocket tilts his head appreciatively. “You’re the best,” he mutters. “I tell you that enough?”

Kraglin smiles crookedly down at him. “Could mention it a few more times.”

Rocket grins lazily and nips at Kraglin’s fingers; Kraglin lets him gnaw gently until he gets sick of it.

“Seriously though,” he says after a pause, “we gotta figure out what his deal is.”

Kraglin hums thoughtfully. 

—

Rocket likes solving problems, normally. He’s good at it—breaking complex problems down into their individual components, identifying risk factors, shit like that. It’s what he was built for, once upon a time.

People are a little tougher to predict, but their issues can usually be dealt with the same way. Hell, Rocket’s managed to help Yondu and Kraglin work out their problems in the past. So it’s really frustrating that he can’t seem to get a handle on this one.

Kraglin ain’t wrong about it probably having to do with Stakar. The sooner they’re off this ship, the happier Rocket’s gonna be. Stakar’s presence rankles like a burr in Rocket’s coat, annoying and impossible to ignore.

He should be a better boyfriend and support Yondu. Having his family back means a lot to him, and Rocket’s been a big part of making that happen. 

He can’t manage it. The longer they’re here, the worse it gets. Yondu will come back to their room late, drunk and happy and flushed a pretty navy. He’ll laugh with Martinex over things that happened way before he met Kraglin, much less Rocket.

Rocket ain’t sure how to handle that. The Yondu who’s chummy with Sparkles isn’t the same guy who cornered Rocket on the bridge of the Quadrant and dragged him kicking and screaming into the realization that he wasn’t alone in the universe.

Something ugly swells in his chest when he watches them together. They’re playing darts on the officers’ deck, which is restricted to all but the bridge crew and the Guardians. Yondu’s losing, but he’s good-natured about it. 

Martinex passes him another beer, and their fingers brush when Yondu takes it.

Rocket decides he hates him. 

“You’re supposed to be havin’ fun,” says Stakar. He’s got a drink of his own in his hand. “Quit lookin’ like someone pissed in your drink.”

Rocket growls at him. “Just bored, is all. Thought Ravagers were supposed to throw good parties,” he says snidely.

“I save those for special occasions.” Stakar smirks. “We’ll have a real rager soon enough.”

“And why’s that?” Rocket watches Kraglin keep his own careful eye on Yondu from his corner.

“Because my lovely wife’s comin’ home,” Stakar says proudly. 

Rocket raises his eyebrows. “Aleta?” 

“Yep. Been an awfully long time since the Ogords been together.” Stakar looks smitten. It’s not a great look on him.

“Can’t wait,” says Rocket. Stakar either misses or chooses to ignore his tone.

“She’ll like you,” Stakar tells him, and that makes him pay attention. Something about the way he says it makes Rocket think that’s a rare compliment.

He shrugs. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Stakar reaches down and does his best to clap Rocket on the shoulder. It jostles the wonky joint, but he bites back the yelp. Guy’s just trying to be nice, after all.

Besides, it doesn’t sting as much as watching Yondu lean into Martinex, laughing at something Rocket didn’t hear.

He crosses the room to where Gamora and Quill are sitting apart from the others. Quill kicks out a chair for him, and he climbs up.

“Yondu’s having fun,” says Quill, and Rocket sighs in relief at the brittleness he hears in his voice.

“Oh good, I’m not the only one,” he mutters.

They both look at him. Gamora rests her chin in her hand. “I suspect it’s strange for him,” she says diplomatically.

“Oh, it’s definitely strange,” says Rocket. He watches Kraglin slink around the edge of the room.

Quill throws back his drink. “Think I’m gonna go challenge the winner,” he says, and gets to his feet.

Rocket doesn’t look; Gamora’s eyes tend to burn into the back of his head whether he turns or not. “Spit it out.”

“Peter’s jealous,” she says simply.

“Tell him to get in line,” Rocket mutters. 

She doesn’t say anything to that.

And Rocket feels like a shithead, because Yondu _does_ look happy; he’s in his element, loud and charming, holding court while the younger officers watch him with big shiny eyes. 

It’s gotta feel good to be back in the king’s good graces. 

It’s stupid, that it’s taken this long for Rocket to really grasp exactly what Yondu lost when he shuttled kids for Ego. He didn’t just lose friends like he described to Rocket; he lost his position as Stakar Ogord’s surrogate son. Rocket’s managed to land himself a goddamn Ravager prince. 

He’d rather have Quill’s loser dad.

Quill gets his ass handed to him by Martinex, and he’s trying to gracefully bow out of another round when Kraglin says, “let’s you an’ me play, Marty.”

The room goes quiet, and Rocket could kill Kraglin for not telling him what the hell _this_ is about.

“Sure,” says Martinex after a minute. Hard to tell what he’s thinking with his face all sparkly like that.

“What the hell is he doing?” whispers Gamora.

“Like I know. No one tells me anything around here,” Rocket grumbles.

Kraglin goes over to the board, and that’s when Rocket knows this is gonna get messy. That slow stalk he does, with his hands loose and easy at his sides? That spells trouble.

Rocket looks to Yondu, hoping he’ll say something to break the tension, but Yondu looks like he just took a bite of underripe yaro root.

Crap. Rocket scampers out of his seat and makes a beeline for Stakar.

As Kraglin hands the first dart to Martinex, Rocket grabs Stakar’s pants leg and tugs. “What the fuck am I missing?” he hisses.

Stakar keeps a spare eye on Kraglin. “No one told you about Yondu and Marty?”

Something cold slithers down Rocket’s spine. He hopes it’s just a glitch in his cybernetics. “No, they did not.”

Stakar makes a scoffing noise. “Figures. Well, it was a long time ago, an’ it ended right about the time Obfonteri showed up.”

Rocket _knew_ there was something weird about Sparkles; he grins viciously when Kraglin’s dart lands closer to the bullseye. “So why the hell ain’t Yondu puttin’ a stop to this?”

“Please,” scoffs Stakar. “I know him, he’s eatin’ this up.”

But Yondu doesn’t look like he’s having fun. In fact, he’s got a look on his face like he’s only just now realized he might have fucked up.

Rocket should feel sorrier for him than he does.

The younger Ravagers aren’t looking so shiny and thrilled anymore either when Kraglin wipes the floor with Martinex. Their first mate’s honor was at stake, and Kraglin should have done the smart thing and let it go. 

“Guess all that training with Nebula’s paying off,” Rocket calls over; heads turn toward him.

Kraglin raises his eyebrows. “Don’t hurt,” he says mildly.

“Probably oughta get the man a drink,” Rocket suggests; he’s reading the room and not liking what he sees. “Be a good sport.”

Kraglin stares at him, that hooded expression chasing across his eyes. Then he blinks and it’s gone. “Sure,” he says easily. “What’re ya drinkin’, Marty?”

“Ah, Kronan ale,” says Martinex, and watches warily as Kraglin slinks to the bar.

Stakar is giving Rocket a serious look, and he don’t like that much, so he makes his way over to Yondu.

“Dangerous business, flirtin’ with your ex right in front of him,” he says as he perches on the arm of a chair. None of the furniture here is the right size.

Yondu gives him a look. “Don’chu start too,” he warns. 

“I’m not startin’ shit. But try to have some damn respect, huh?” Rocket keeps his eyes on Kraglin. “Most of these people ain’t happy we’re here.”

“They’ll do what Stakar orders ‘em to,” says Yondu. 

Rocket picks at a stray thread on his suit. “If it’s something I did—”

“What?” Yondu looks down at him incredulously. “Quit bein’ stupid, boy.”

“When were you gonna tell me Aleta was coming here?” asks Rocket instead of arguing.

Or maybe it’s still arguing. He can’t tell what they’re doing right now.

“Some point tonight. I jus’ heard it myself.” Yondu scratches his neck, and Rocket suddenly wants to bite him there. Mark him up for everyone to see. Feel Yondu’s heart pounding under his tongue and know that it’s all for him...

Yondu’s looking at him now, eyebrows raised. “I know that look,” he says slyly. 

Rocket swallows. “Yeah? What’re you gonna do about it?”

“Why, Rat.” Yondu looks scandalized. “You ain’t suggestin’ we leave a party t’ go fuck around in a closet somewhere, are ya?” The curl of his lip over a crooked tooth shoots straight to Rocket’s dick.

“Nah.” Rocket casually looks at his claws. “Things I wanna do to you won’t work in a closet.”

When he looks up again, Yondu’s eyes are dark. “Is that right?” he says, leaning back in his seat. He spreads his legs a little, which makes Rocket smirk.

There’s a nervy sort of energy crawling under Rocket’s skin, an urge to pin Yondu down with his teeth and remind him why he chose them.

But he can’t do that by himself. “Hey Kraglin!”

Kraglin’s slouched next to Quill against the wall, having apparently made nice with Martinex enough to head off the brewing shitstorm. “What?”

“We’re gettin’ outta here! Come on!”

Kraglin shoves his drink at Quill. “Night, Pete.”

“Can’t you _try_ to be subtle about it?” Quill whines, but Kraglin ignores him.

Yondu heaves himself to his feet with a put-upon sigh, which annoys the shit out of Rocket.

“What, you’d rather stay here?” he snaps.

Kraglin stops behind Yondu, eyebrows shooting up.

“What?” Yondu frowns. “No. We goin’ or what?”

Rocket grunts and heads for the door. But not before he catches Martinex staring after them. 

He smirks, just to be an asshole.

Let the sparkly bastard spend the rest of the night thinking about what Rocket’s getting two decks down.

The walk back to their room is quiet; they’re all a little on edge. Rocket keeps licking his lips, trying to decide what he wants to do first.

He sort of expects one of them to talk once they get the door closed behind them, but everyone’s still quiet.

“This isn’t weird or anything,” he says out loud, pulling his suit off and throwing it in the pile. It gets them moving, anyway, even if Yondu’s watching them like he doesn’t know what to expect. It irritates Rocket, who figures Yondu ought to remember that they’re the same.

Then Kraglin’s lip curls away from his teeth. “Thought your slutty days were over,” he tells Yondu, whose hands still over the buckles across his chest.

“Talkin’ to a man is slutty now?” he asks.

“Last time you got t’ talkin’ to a man, I ended up with Rocket in my bed,” says Kraglin, stalking around Yondu. “No offense, Rocket.”

“None taken.” Rocket puts his hands on his hips. “You were actually way more reasonable about it than I would’ve been.”

Kraglin smirks. He’s still circling Yondu steadily. “I didn’t tell you t’ stop,” he says in his soft voice.

Yondu swallows. His hands start moving on the buckles again.

“I know you an’ Martinex have history,” Kraglin continues, “but I ain’t in the mood for competition.”

“If anyone’s competin’ it’s you,” says Yondu quietly as he shrugs off his shirt and tosses the scarf after it.

“Yeah right.” Rocket gives Yondu a look. “He’s been sniffing around for weeks now. At first I thought it was guilt, but now I’m thinkin’ he’s tryin’ to see if he’s got a shot.”

“Which he don’t,” says Kraglin bluntly. He waits until Yondu undoes his pants and then points to the bed. “Get on your back.”

“With his pants on?” asks Rocket.

“Oh, you gonna start askin’ dumb questions?” Kraglin asks him. “Here I was thinkin’ we were gonna share him.”

Rocket shuts up.

Yondu watches them both warily, but lays back like Kraglin tells him to. There’s a bulge in the front of his pants; Rocket ain’t the only one who gets off on it when Kraglin’s mean.

Kraglin slides next to him, propping himself up on his elbow. He jerks his chin for Rocket to follow, so he does, clambering up the bed to kneel at Yondu’s other side.

“I think,” says Kraglin softly, “this is a good time t’ make our own code.”

Yondu looks up at him. “You wanna make sure I don’t fuck no one else, jus’ say so.”

“I wanna make sure you don’t fuck anyone else,” says Rocket. 

They both look at him. 

“Rocket—” Yondu tries to sit up, but Rocket stops him.

“Look,” he says, thinking carefully about what he wants to say, “what happened with us really shouldn’t have happened. Kraglin shouldn’t have had to deal with that. Just because we worked it out then doesn’t mean I want it happening again.”

He thinks he’d die if Yondu fucked someone else. Which might be stupid, because Kraglin and Yondu fuck each other, but no one from outside belongs in their little world of three. 

“Are you two really thinkin’ I wanna fuck Marty?” Yondu demands. “Hell, Krags, I ended shit with him over thirty years ago!” He flops back on the bed and rubs his face. “Couple maniacs,” he mumbles. “I forget I broke you young, Obfonteri. Lotta folks can stay friendly after breakin’ things off.”

“He don’t look at you like he’s bein’ friendly,” Rocket quips.

“I don’t give a damn what he does. I’m in bed with you.” Yondu gives him a look.

“Then what about the rest of it? The inside jokes an’ the stayin’ out late every night and you actin’ like a brat instead of someone’s dad?” Rocket wasn’t really planning to say all that, but it’s out now.

Crap.

Yondu stares at him. He keeps staring until Rocket shifts uncomfortably and looks down to pick at a thread he picked loose on the blanket.

“Fuck you, Rocket,” says Yondu softly, and pushes to his feet.

Rocket’s jaw drops as Yondu does up his pants and pulls his shirt out of the pile, and he looks desperately at Kraglin for help.

Kraglin’s scowling. “You need t’ cool off?” he asks Yondu after a moment, and Yondu whirls on him.

“Always figured you were the one I’d have t’ worry about, Kraglin,” he hisses. “I thought he understood. It ain’t a goddamn choice between you or them!” He steps into his boots and stomps out the door.

Rocket curls into himself a little, grabbing at his arms.

Kraglin snatches his hands back before he can scratch himself. “Don’t,” he says gently. “Don’t do that, princess.”

Rocket bares his teeth; luckily, Kraglin’s made of sterner stuff than Yondu seems to be.

“Cut that out. I ain’t mad at ya. Sometimes we all gotta hear things we don’t like.”

“Quill ain’t happy either. It’s not just us,” Rocket mutters.

“I know.” Kraglin rubs his thumbs over Rocket’s paws, massaging between the pads. It feels good, but it’s not enough to make him relax.

Yondu’s never been pissed at him like that before. 

“Kraglin,” he asks, “what do we do?”

Kraglin sighs. “We wait for him t’ calm down. ‘S my fault, I shoulda waited t’ bring all that up. Ain’t a good idea t’ talk an’ fuck at the same time.” He tips Rocket’s chin up. “Hey.”

Rocket glances at him, then away.

“We ain’t gonna be around them forever. He’s goin’ crazy bein’ Stakar’s favorite again, but he’ll come back.” Kraglin presses a kiss to the top of Rocket’s head. 

Rocket closes his eyes. “I hate fightin’ with you guys,” he mumbles.

“No one likes fightin’,” says Kraglin. 

“You watch your back,” Rocket tells him. “Those guys with Martinex, they looked pretty pissed at you.”

“I can handle myself,” Kraglin says softly. 

“I know you can, but a group of ‘em can still kick your ass. An’ then I’d have to go kill ‘em, and Stakar would be pissed. Whole thing would be a mess.” Rocket smiles weakly.

“Just in time for Aleta t’ show up,” says Kraglin with a grin. 

Rocket huffs a laugh, but there really ain’t anything funny about it. He leans into the warmth of Kraglin’s chest, feeling petty and pathetic.

—

“You know, you look pretty miserable for a guy who left early to get laid,” says Quill the next day. They’re in the engine room on the Quadrant adding some last minute goodies Rocket wants to keep secret.

“You’ll be thrilled to know it’s ‘cause I didn’t get laid last night,” Rocket growls.

Quill lowers the welding torch and stares at him. “You wanna talk about it?”

“With you? Hell no.” Rocket makes a grabbing motion until Quill gets a clue and hands over the right wrench.

“I grew up with him, you know,” Quill says, setting the torch down. “I know how to handle him.”

“Yeah? How you been handling this?” asks Rocket sourly. “He spends all his friggin’ time with daddy and Sparkles—who he used to fuck, by the way, so that’s awesome.”

“Ew.”

“Exactly! How the hell do you fuck a pointy glass shithead, anyway? Point is, he’s bein’ damn inconsiderate.” Rocket gets the panel off and crawls in behind it. “Here, hold this.”

Quill takes it and moves it out of the way. “Does he know you’re not happy about that?”

Rocket snorts. “He does now. Got pissed and stomped off last night. Didn’t come back either.”

That’s the part that’s eating him up from the inside. He’s seen Kraglin give the cold shoulder—been on the receiving end of it—but he always figured that when he and Yondu fought, they’d yell and get it over with. 

And the fact that he doesn’t know where Yondu slept last night don’t help matters. Rocket was mostly joking about the murder-suicide thing, but if Yondu fucked Martinex he’s at least willing to consider it.

Quill whistles, pulling Rocket back to the wires in front of his face. “Well, I guess it was inevitable that when you two finally started fighting it was gonna get ugly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

There’s a real deliberate pause that Rocket don’t appreciate before Quill says, “you’re both nasty as hell. And neither of you are real good at just saying what you mean instead of insulting the person you’re talking to.”

“I did say what I meant! I’m sick and tired of watchin’ him act like daddy’s little asshole!” Rocket sticks his head out of the console to glare at Quill.

“Tell me you didn’t say that.”

“Obviously!” Rocket scowls. “Well. Not exactly like that.”

“Are you seriously confused about why he’s pissed at you?” Quill stares.

“I don’t need this from you.” Rocket points at Quill’s dumb face. “You’re here to nod at the right times and agree he’s bein’ a dick.”

“I mean, he’s my dad,” Quill points out.

Rocket scoffs. “Right now he’s Stakar’s boy. Anything else comes second.” He wiggles back into the console and starts digging for the right wire. 

Quill’s quiet for awhile. “You don’t mean that.”

“No? Then why’d I say it?” Found it. It was on the left side the whole time. Rocket idly considers bashing his own head into a wall a few times until his face decides to stop glitching.

“Because you feel like he’s ignoring you and it’s making you insecure and that makes you mean?”

Rocket can only handle so much truth in one day. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore,” he grumbles. “Come on, get some of your mom’s old songs. Let’s finish this up and go find Groot.”

Quill takes a moment before he says, “okay” in a warm voice that definitely doesn’t make Rocket’s insides melt. 

—

He sees Yondu again at lunch, sitting with Mantis and Nebula and telling some story that has Mantis laughing. Something inside him clenches and releases at the sight of him.

Yondu chose to sit with _them;_ it’s stupid, but it feels like a peace offering. So he follows Quill over, hating how tentative he feels about claiming the seat next to Yondu when he’s never been unsure of his welcome before.

Yondu cuts his eyes over to Rocket when he sits down, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge him. 

Rocket doesn’t wanna curl up and die, shut up.

Mantis gives him a concerned look, but he catches her eye and shakes his head slightly. She bites her lip and lets it go. 

He feels bad. She shouldn’t have to deal with their crap. So he lets Yondu’s voice wash over him while he shovels food in his mouth.

Then Drax comes barreling into the room, scattering people as he charges past them to grab Martinex by the throat and slam him back onto the table.

“Whoa, whoa, Drax!” Quill leaps to his feet.

“Your people attacked one of ours!” he bellows in Martinex’s face.

Rocket goes cold all over. Next to him, Yondu lets out a high, sweet whistle.

Drax freezes when the arrow stops next to his head. 

“Whassat you was sayin’?” Yondu’s deceptively pleasant voice is actually scarier than Drax’s yelling.

“Some of these Ravagers attacked Kraglin,” growls Drax. “Gamora is tending to him now.”

A muscle twitches in Yondu’s cheek, and the whole room holds its breath.

“Where is he?” Rocket demands. His voice sounds loud in the silence.

“On the _Milano,_ ” Drax tells him, still glaring at Martinex.

“Drax, you gotta let him up,” says Quill, and when Drax hesitates, he snaps, “ _Drax!_ ”

Drax lets go and takes a step back. Yondu’s arrow, however, stays right where it is. 

Rocket looks between Yondu and Quill. “I’m gonna go check on Kraglin,” he says. 

“Take Drax with you,” says Quill.

Rocket meets Drax’s eyes and Drax nods. They get the hell out of there.

“How the hell did _Kraglin_ get jumped?” Rocket demands when they’re well away from the mess hall. 

“I don’t know. He was alone when we found him.” Rocket hasn’t seen Drax so pissed since they faced Ronan; his shoulders are tense and the tendons in his neck stand out like thick cords.

Rocket knows full well how vicious Kraglin can be. There’s something he’s missing here.

When they climb into the _Milano,_ the first thing Rocket sees is Kraglin laid across one of the bunks with his jumpsuit pulled down to his waist to reveal ugly purple-black bruising all over his torso. Gamora’s sitting next to him with a grim look on her face.

“He’ll be fine,” she tells Rocket. “I gave him something for the pain.”

Kraglin gives him a dopey grin. “Hey princess,” he says, lifting an ice pack in greeting. 

Rocket can feel Drax and Gamora staring at him. He clears his throat. “What happened?”

“Bunch of ‘em jumped me. Didn’t see their faces.” Kraglin yawns, revealing a few more missing teeth. He’s rocking a split lip and a swollen cheek too.

“There are ribs broken,” Gamora says quietly. “I haven’t checked on his internal organs.”

Rocket stares at Kraglin’s face. “I’m gonna kill them,” he says flatly. 

“Don’t do that,” Kraglin mutters. “It’ll make Yondu sad.”

“Yondu is near the top of my shit list right now,” growls Rocket. “We been tellin’ him about the dirty looks an’ he kept brushin’ it off.”

“Rocket, none of us thought Stakar’s crew would actually disobey him and attack us,” says Gamora. “This has to be handled by him.”

“What?” He rounds on her furiously, but she heads him off with a raised hand.

“Rocket. Think about it. He needs to keep control of his own crew. I know you’re angry, and so am I, but if we undermine Stakar’s authority by dealing with this ourselves, we make the problem even bigger.”

Rocket’s shoulders slump. “I hate when you’re right,” he mutters.

“This kind of treatment when we are guests on this ship is outrageous.” Drax shakes his head. 

“I agree.” Stakar’s voice makes Rocket jump. He, Quill, Yondu, and Martinex are all here, with Nebula and Mantis hovering further back. “How is he?”

“Broken ribs, lots of bruising, a few teeth missing,” Gamora reports. “I haven’t had a chance to run a medical scan, but I have cold packs on him.”

“I got a medic on the way,” says Stakar.

“An’ then you’re gonna find who did this,” says Yondu darkly.

Kraglin blinks at Stakar and raises a fist. Gamora stops him before he can pound his chest in a salute.

Rocket sighs and pats Kraglin’s hand. “You should sleep, baby,” he tells him. “They kicked your ass pretty good.”

Kraglin grunts. “That’s only ‘cause I didn’t fight back,” he mumbles sleepily. 

Rocket gives Yondu a blistering look. 

Yondu narrows his eyes.

“We go everywhere together,” says Nebula. “Until these people are caught, we might as well be in hostile territory.”

“That’s really not—” Martinex falters when Nebula shoots him a look.

“This is _not_ hostile territory,” snaps Stakar. “But until we catch these guys, she’s got the right idea. Stay in pairs or groups. I don’t wanna see this again.”

“I’ll stay in here with Kraglin,” says Rocket, because Quill looks like he’s about to pop.

“So will I.” No one challenges Yondu, not with that ugly look on his face. He meets Rocket’s eyes, and Rocket feels the fur on the back of his neck stand up.

Fine then. At least no one’ll be able to hear them screaming at each other here on the ship.

The medic, a bright pink Krylorian, pokes their head in. “You said there was a situation, Cap’n?”

Stakar nods at Kraglin and the medic heads toward him. They start pulling equipment out of their bag, scanning Kraglin while he blinks at them.

Rocket hovers, trying not to be obnoxious. He can smell the medic, and Kraglin’s blood, and under that, the stink of whoever got in close enough to beat him senseless.

“We can fix the ribs right away,” the medic says.

“And you’re waiting for what, exactly?” snaps Rocket.

“Leave ‘em alone,” says Yondu softly, and as pissed off as Rocket is, he listens.

It seems to take forever for the medic to get the process underway for fixing Kraglin’s ribs. Rocket watches narrowly as they pass the regenerator over his torso again, knitting the bone back together. Fancy tech, and if it wasn’t being used on Kraglin he’d be tempted to steal it.

Kraglin sighs a little in relief when the medic pulls the regenerator away. “Thanks,” he croaks.

The medic nods. “I can take care of the teeth if you come into the medcenter. Otherwise, you just have to take it easy until the bruising heals. Muscles don’t knit as neatly as bone. So it’s rest and cold packs to reduce swelling.” They force a smile. “I’ll leave some pain meds with your partners.”

Kraglin nods. “Leave it with Rocket,” he mumbles. “He’s th’ one who remembers ev’rything.”

The medic turns to Rocket, who sighs and holds out his hand. “Let’s have it.”

He puts the bottle of drugs in his pocket, double checking the time so he can get Kraglin on a regular schedule with them.

When he looks up, Yondu’s watching him with an expression he can’t place. He looks at Stakar instead. “I guess catchin’ these bastards is your problem,” he tells him. “I don’t gotta say what happens to ‘em when you do?”

Stakar looks grim. “Knowin’ you, kid, it wouldn’t make a damn bit o’ difference if I told you no.” He shakes his head and claps Yondu on the shoulder. “They’re all yours when we get ‘em.”

Rocket nods, looking around at the others. Drax and Gamora look pissed, Quill and Mantis look worried, and Nebula just looks like Nebula. 

“Where’s Groot?” Rocket asks suddenly, dread twisting his guts.

“In the cockpit,” Gamora says quickly. “I left him with my datapad so he’d stay out of the way.”

Thank god. Rocket nods again and climbs the stairs to go get him.

Groot’s laying on his stomach, kicking his legs in the air while he watches some dumb kids’ show about brightly colored animals. He looks kinda wilted, and Rocket sits down next to him.

“I am Groot?”

“Yeah, he’s gonna be fine. You didn’t see nothin’, did you?”

“I am Groot.”

“Good,” says Rocket. “You seen too much bad shit as it is. We’re all stickin’ together until they catch these jerks, so why don’t you go down and pick your person?”

“I am Groot?”

Rocket sighs. “Not tonight, kid. I’m gonna stay in here with Kraglin, make sure he’s okay.”

“I am Groot,” says Groot softly, and Rocket scoops him up into a hug, feeling little vines wind around his neck. 

Nothing calms him down like Groot, with his little fresh plant smell and his tiny voice. Rocket loves the kid more than he knows how to say.

Footsteps on the stairs make Rocket look up, and his ears go back when he sees Martinex’s shiny face.

“I think they’re getting ready to go,” Martinex says. “Look, I just—wanted to say I feel bad. This was on us. In more ways than one. So...I’m sorry.”

Rocket narrows his eyes. “Kraglin’s the one you oughta be apologizing to.”

“I already did. Thought I should say it to you too.” Martinex gives him a weak smile. It fades when Rocket doesn’t return it. “Right. Well. Just letting you know.”

Rocket watches him vanish below and then sets Groot down. “Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Groot nods and scampers off to the hold.

Rocket puts his head in his hands and tugs sharply on the fur on his face. He’s overwhelmed and exhausted, even though it’s just past lunchtime. 

“You gonna stay up here all day?”

Yondu’s standing on the stairs, head and chest visible as he leans on the handrails. He’s watching Rocket like a bomb that could blow at any second.

Rocket kind of wants to cry just looking at him. “I’m tryin’ to think,” he manages to choke out.

Yondu nods; he looks as tired as Rocket feels. “Look, I don’t think you wanna do this here, but—”

“You ain’t wrong,” Rocket cuts him off.

“I’m _tryin’_ to apologize,” Yondu grits out.

That stops Rocket. “That right?”

“Not for all of it. You were still an asshole, but I don’t reckon you were wrong, tryin’ t’ come up with some rules for us.”

Rocket looks down. “When we started, you said you weren’t gonna just settle down and quit fuckin’ people,” he says quietly. “I thought you just meant me an’ Kraglin, but...did you?”

Yondu sighs. “Things were different then.”

“How’s that?”

“I didn’t figure Kraglin would start lovin’ you.” Yondu looks at him. “Thirty years an’ he never looked twice at anyone but me, so I thought you two was gonna fight like a couple hellbeasts.”

Rocket swallows. “But you started with me anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“I never asked you why.” It’s important, and Rocket’s grown up enough to admit that he didn’t wanna know before now because he was afraid of the answer.

Yondu presses his lips tight together. “I wanted you.”

“That’s it?” Rocket hunches his shoulders.

“What, you wanted a different reason?”

“You had to know it was gonna hurt Kraglin,” Rocket says. “Gettin’ with me right after you finally gave in and decided to be with him? Why would you do that?”

“Would I do it t’ you, you mean,” says Yondu in that soft, scratchy voice, and it tears a sob loose from Rocket’s chest.

“Aw, hell. Don’t cry, Rat.” Yondu climbs the rest of the stairs.

Rocket covers his face. “You know I’ll kill you if you leave me, right? I meant that, old man.” He’s trying not to cry, but a sniffle makes it out.

Big arms close around him, so sure that he’s not gonna bite and claw his way out. He thinks about it, just on principle, but instead he sags and lets Yondu take his weight. 

Yondu sits down in the other pilot’s seat and settles Rocket into his lap. “You been worried ‘bout this for awhile now, huh?” he asks softly. 

Rocket growls instead of answering. 

Yondu sighs. “Boy, I said it first. You’re me an’ I’m you. Quit actin’ like you don’t know what that means.”

Rocket lays his chin on Yondu’s shoulder. He doesn’t say anything.

“You wanna hear you’re special? You’re special. Wouldn’t two-time Kraglin for nobody else. Wouldn’t two-time the pair o’ ya for all six Infinity Stones. It’d cost me my balls, for one thing. But more important,” says Yondu, “no one else knows the words t’ that damn Piña Colada song, or why we celebrate a bunch o’ Terran holidays I never heard of.”

Rocket looks at him. “The one with the presents is pretty good.”

“Hell yeah it is.” Yondu gives him a crooked smile. “You have any idea how much time I spend yakkin’ Marty’s ear off about you? He’s all sad ya don’t like him, ‘cause he thinks you’re pretty damn cool.”

“You talk about me to Martinex?” 

Yondu shakes his head. “I ain’t leavin’ you an’ Kraglin alone anymore,” he says. “Get some real stupid ideas in your heads, you two.”

“You ain’t exactly got a good track record,” says Rocket wryly.

“Yeah, yeah.” Yondu strokes up and down Rocket’s back. “I get you. So what do I gotta do t’ convince you I ain’t lookin’ anywhere else?”

“I dunno. Tell me where you’re sleepin’ even if you’re pissed at me, maybe,” says Rocket thoughtfully. “I cared about it more before Kraglin got shitkicked.”

“If those assholes are smart, they’re off this ship by now,” Yondu mutters. 

Rocket snorts. “You heard him say he didn’t fight back, right?”

“I heard it.” Yondu shakes his head. “It was the smart thing t’ do, but I’m fuckin’ pissed he did it.”

“Always thinkin about everyone but himself.” Rocket sighs. “We shouldn’t leave him down there alone.”

Yondu nods and gets to his feet, still carrying Rocket in his arms. Rocket grumbles and pretends he doesn’t love it as Yondu carries him down to the sleeping quarters.

Kraglin blinks sleepily at them. “Where’d ya go?”

“We was jus’ in the cockpit.” Yondu sits carefully down on the bunk, Rocket still in his lap. He reaches out to smooth his fingers delicately over Kraglin’s face.

Kraglin leans into it, just slightly. “You two made up, then?”

“We ain’t pissed at each other anymore,” Rocket says. “You can have more drugs in a couple hours.”

“Oh good.” Kraglin’s grin is more crooked than usual with the missing teeth. 

“Krags,” says Yondu softly, “somethin’ like this happens again, jus’ kill ‘em. You let me handle the fallout.”

Kraglin grunts. “If it weren’t Stakar’s people I would have.”

“An’ I’m tellin’ you t’ make a different call next time.” Yondu looks at him seriously. “We ain’t in the chain o’ command anymore. It ain’t Stakar’s place t’ punish us.”

Kraglin sits up a little when he realizes what Yondu is saying. “How’s that gonna work?” he asks around a wince.

“I guess we’ll figure it out.” Yondu gives him a fond look. “We was always good at that.”

Kraglin smiles back. “Guess so.”

“Thought it wasn’t about makin’ a choice,” Rocket says with a raised eyebrow.

Yondu sighs and gives him an exasperated look. “You are the most persistent li’l bastard I ever met, an’ I raised Quill.”

Rocket crosses his arms and waits.

“Dumbass. Lurkin’ in the vents like you was, you heard me make that choice. Long time ago when I said I was stayin’ with Quill.”

“Wait, what?” Kraglin frowns and then curses when it agitates his swollen eye.

“Uhhh...” Rocket smiles sheepishly. “I might’ve overheard that whole conversation. Temperature valves were bein’ weird on that level.”

Kraglin eyes him. “Pervert. You just like watchin’ us.”

“Shut up!” But Kraglin’s snickering, holding his side and trying not to move too much.

Yondu snorts. “Ain’t like he’s wrong, boy.”

“Yeah well, it’s not like I’m the only one either,” Rocket points out. “Between the three of us, there’s plenty of weird sex stuff to go around.”

“‘S what makes it fun,” says Yondu cheerfully.

Kraglin nods sagely. “True.” He smirks. “Shame we didn’t get t’ the good stuff before fightin’ last night. ‘S been awhile since we both fucked ya at the same time, Cap’n.”

“That what you were plannin’?” Yondu gives him a sly grin.

“Mighta been.” 

Rocket snorts. “You ain’t doin’ anything for a couple days at least.” 

Kraglin smirks. “Oh, I know. Just the thought o’ movin’ that much hurts. But you ain’t the only pervert here.” He gives Rocket a loaded look.

“I don’t think I can fuck on the _Milano,_ ” Rocket tells him. “Smells too much like Quill in here.”

They both make disgusted faces. “Yeah, okay,” Kraglin sighs. “Maybe tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” Rocket pats his knee.

—

“Morning, guys!” Quill’s there bright and early the next morning with Groot perched on his shoulder.

More importantly, he has food.

Rocket scarfs down a protein bar (his favorite flavor; he’s glad they didn’t fuck in the ship after all) and eyes Kraglin when he tries to sit up. The medic might have knitted the ribs, but he’s real tender around the middle. They’ve been rotating ice packs and some bags of frozen vegetables from the galley to keep on his sides.

Sure enough, he hisses and cusses the whole way upright.

“Idiot,” says Yondu with his hands on his hips. “Why you gotta be so damn stubborn?”

“Pot, kettle,” Kraglin mutters, reaching for the bowl of food Quill brought him. “Thanks, Pete.”

“No problem. How you feeling?” Quill’s giving him the big concerned eyes.

“Like I got the shit kicked outta me.” Kraglin makes the obviously painful effort to flick Quill between the eyes. “Dumbass.”

“Ow.” Quill rubs his head. “See if I’m nice to you anymore.”

“Pain in the ass,” Kraglin mutters, but he starts eating the food. It’s some kind of mashed grain, easy to eat with fucked up teeth.

“I am Groot,” Groot tells Kraglin, and Rocket smothers a grin when Kraglin nods like he understands. It makes Groot happy, and Rocket’s around to translate.

“He slept like a baby after I gave him the good drugs,” he tells Groot. “Snored, too, but not as bad as Yondu.”

Groot laughs, and Quill snorts. “I almost smothered you with a pillow during that job on Gramosia,” he says to Yondu. “Didn’t sleep the entire time we were there.”

“You sure do whine a lot,” says Yondu, digging in his ear. “I gave you a week’s leave after that job, an’ I brought yer ass home when ya was too fucked-out t’ walk after.”

Quill throws a panicked look over his shoulder. “Dude!”

Gamora steps into view with an unimpressed look and plucks Groot off Quill’s shoulder. “There are no signs the _Milano_ was tampered with or that anyone attempted to sabotage it.”

“We were in here the whole time!” Rocket scowls, offended that Gamora felt the need to check. And a little touched.

Mostly offended.

She gives him a look. “Exactly. You were in here, so you haven’t seen the massive flurry of activity out in the hangar this morning.”

Rocket’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Yondu?” calls Stakar from the back, and Rocket rolls his eyes, because what’s one more person first thing in the morning?

“We’re back here,” he yells, gesturing for Kraglin to wipe his chin.

Stakar appears in the doorway, beaming. “How you holdin’ up, Obfonteri?” he asks brightly, but before Kraglin has a chance to answer another voice growls, “ _move_.”

His eyes get big and he steps to the side.

Yondu’s hands clench.

A tiny woman, just about the shortest humie Rocket’s ever seen, shoves Stakar out of her way and stalks toward Yondu. She’s older, pretty, with tangled, greasy hair and dark circles smudged around her sharp eyes. She moves like Gamora does, like she knows she’s the most dangerous thing in the room.

“ _Yondu_ ,” she whispers, grabbing his face with both hands.

Just like he’d held onto Quill when he thought he was dying.

“Aleta,” Yondu croaks, lowering his head so she can press her face against his. He sags a little, and she grips him tighter like she could hold him up.

“My boy.” Her voice breaks, and she squeezes her eyes shut before straightening up and looking Yondu in the eye. “I’ve missed you.”

Rocket remembers her, although he’s never seen her in person. Of all Yondu’s Ravager buddies Rocket called when he was still touch and go, right after Ego, she was the one who picked up. She’d also acted like a real bitch, but Rocket figures he wouldn’t be too sweet either if someone told him his kid almost died.

“Me too,” Yondu mutters. “How you been, Aleta?”

She waves him off. “Fine. Now where’s my fucking grandson? I want to meet him.”

“Uh, wow,” is Quill’s contribution to the conversation. “Hi.”

She peers up at him. “So you’re Peter Quill.” She nods and quirks an eyebrow at Yondu. “How in the stars did you find a kid off Terra who actually looks like you?”

“What? He’s pink!” Yondu waves his hand at Quill.

“Pink? Dude, Krylorians are pink. I’m—” Quill pauses, frowning at his palm like he’s trying to determine what color his skin actually is.

“Peach,” says Gamora helpfully.

“Yeah, that,” he mumbles.

Aleta throws Stakar a look over her shoulder. “He’s definitely Yondu’s boy.” She grins and it’s sharp like a knife. “And Kraglin Obfonteri. You grew up.”

He salutes gingerly. “Cap’n Ogord.”

She snorts. “Boy, you’re fucking my son. Call me Aleta.”

Kraglin looks slightly alarmed by the idea, and Yondu self-consciously wipes his nose with the back of his hand. He’s got that look where he’s trying not to show off how happy he is.

“So, _Aleta,_ ” says Rocket, giving her a big grin, “nice to finally meet you in person.”

She looks down at him. “I remember you.” The grin she flashes him is just as obnoxious as the one he’s serving her. “You’re that rat thing who made my husband cry. I hear you’re fucking my boy too, rat thing.”

“Hey!” No one looks at Stakar.

Rocket’s grin stretches to show teeth. “That’d be right, greasy bitch,” he shoots back.

“ _Rocket!_ ” hisses Quill.

Aleta stares at him for a second before barking a laugh. “I like him,” she tells Yondu. “He’s a nasty little shit just like you.”

Yondu’s grin looks more relieved than anything.

—

Everyone agrees that the raging party should wait until they kill whoever kicked the crap out of Kraglin. Aleta cheerfully points out that using free booze as an incentive might actually make people turn the fuckers in.

Rocket can’t figure out how a chump like Stakar landed her. He guesses it ain’t really his business.

He can’t bring himself to be as cranky over Aleta as he is with Sparkles and Stakar. Maybe it means he’s growing as a person or some shit, but when Aleta suggests she and Yondu get some grub and catch up, the hopeful look Yondu gives Rocket makes him feel like the smallest, pettiest asshole in the galaxy. 

So he smiles and waves Yondu off, watching him follow Aleta like a big blue puppy.

“She always been like that?” he asks Kraglin.

“I didn’t know her too well back then, but yeah.” 

Rocket nods and pulls the pill bottle out of his pocket. “Here. Don’t wanna get you too far off schedule,” he mutters, tipping two of them into his hand and giving them to Kraglin.

Kraglin takes them gratefully. “Thanks,” he mutters, swallowing them dry. “This fuckin’ sucks. Can’t do anything fun.”

Rocket pats his leg and watches carefully as Kraglin finally gets to his feet. He hisses, clutching at his side, but slowly manages to straighten up.

Getting back to their own room was a relief. Maybe it ain’t as secure as the _Milano,_ but it smells like the three of them and it’s got a comfy bed for Kraglin to stretch out on.

Rocket takes the melted cold packs from Kraglin and puts them in the tiny freezer that came with their room. It’s supposed to hold ice, but it works for this too. 

When Kraglin comes back from the bathroom he’s ditched the jumpsuit. He throws it weakly in the direction of the pile and plods back to the bed in only his ratty tank top and even older underwear. There’s a boot-shaped bruise directly on his ass, and it makes Rocket so pissed his hackles go up.

“I’m gonna shoot them in their dicks,” he tells Kraglin.

“Don’t think they all had dicks.” Kraglin shifts his weight onto the uninjured ass cheek. 

“Whatever kinda junk they got, that’s where I’m shooting ‘em,” Rocket growls. 

“You say the sweetest things.” Kraglin grins crookedly. His newly replaced teeth look out of place, too white and shiny next to the others.

Rocket grabs the fresh cold packs and hops onto the bed. “Can I see?” he asks.

Kraglin nods and lifts his shirt. 

Rocket scowls as he looks over Kraglin’s ribs. It’s only been a day, so it’s not like anything looks different, but he’s pleased to see that there isn’t much swelling. He puts the cold pack against Kraglin’s skin with a smartass grin.

Kraglin shivers.

“We gonna have to start usin’ ice cubes in the bedroom?” asks Rocket.

“If that’s somethin’ you’re into.” Kraglin smirks.

“I’m into watchin’ you squirm.” Rocket gives in and licks across the bruising on Kraglin’s side. It’s instinct, from that part of his brain that needs to groom and sniff and scent mark his own.

Kraglin pets the back of his head. “Thanks princess,” he says softly.

Rocket sighs and turns his cheek into Kraglin’s hand. “I just hate this.”

“I ain’t real thrilled with it neither,” Kraglin says dryly, “but it’s not the first time I got beat up. I’ll be fine. Back t’ normal in a week.”

“Not the point.” Rocket gives him a look. 

“I know. Now c’mere an’ gimme a kiss.” Kraglin grins. 

So Rocket stretches, careful not to lean his weight onto Kraglin, and licks his lips. Kraglin’s arm comes around his waist and pulls him in a little closer, and Rocket settles against his side so they can keep kissing. 

It’s kinda nice, making out with no intention of taking it further. Rocket’s never done it before.

“You should brush your damn teeth,” he mutters to Kraglin. “They’re gonna get as funky as Yondu’s before long.”

Kraglin kisses him again, gross breath be damned. “Quit pretendin’ ya don’t like his teeth.”

Rocket shoves his tongue in Kraglin’s mouth. It gets him a little moan that makes him smile. “Yeah, that’s right, smartass.” He reaches up and tugs gently at Kraglin’s hair. “Moan for me like a needy little slut.”

“Don’t you get me all worked up when I can’t do nothin’ about it,” Kraglin hisses. His eyes slide shut and he groans again when Rocket tugs his hair more sharply.

“Think of it as an incentive to behave yourself and heal faster.” Rocket traces his tongue over Kraglin’s lips. “Be a good boy and get well soon and I’ll eat your ass til you cry.”

Kraglin whines. “This is you gettin’ revenge for the plug thing, huh?”

“Maybe.” Rocket grins, carding his fingers through Kraglin’s hair. “You mad about it?”

“Nah. ‘S kinda hot when ya get bossy an’ mean.” Kraglin’s eyes slide shut. 

“Yeah?” Rocket presses a kiss to Kraglin’s forehead. “I won’t be too mean. You deserve some good shit after this.”

“You’re still gonna eat my ass though, right?” Kraglin cracks open an eye and smirks.

Rocket laughs. “Dude, I think _not_ eating your ass would be the mean thing. But you better call me princess when you beg me to fuck you after.”

“I can do that.” Kraglin tugs him down for another kiss, softer than before.

Rocket melts into it, closing his eyes and stroking Kraglin’s face. He likes the way his beard feels under his palm. 

When he pulls away, he tucks his face into Kraglin’s neck so he can smell his skin. “Wanna watch somethin’ on the holonet?” he mutters.

“Sure. Any games on today?” 

“Lemme check.” Rocket shimmies over to the bedside table, moves the lube that Yondu and Kraglin left out like a pair of animals, and picks up the datapad.

“Okay,” he says as he scrolls through options. “We got all day racing, Aakon martial arts matches, two Nova Cup finals in the afternoon, an’ some game show where people get tied into bags an’ have to wiggle to the prize they want.”

They look at each other.

“Yeah, like we weren’t gonna watch that.” Rocket turns it on and props up the datapad so Kraglin can see too.

—

“You two’re younger’n me. Why do I keep comin’ home t’ find ya passed out in front o’ some show on the net?” Yondu has his hands on his hips and is shaking his head at them with an exasperated smile.

“I’m injured,” Kraglin points out.

“Kraglin’s injured,” Rocket echoes.

Yondu sighs. “Well, tomorrow you’re both comin’ t’ Stakar’s quarters with me. Aleta says she’s gettin’ everyone together. Jus’ family.” His eyes shine a little at that.

Rocket glances at Kraglin. “Is Quill coming?”

“Yep. All you Guardians are.” Yondu smirks. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout bein’ alone with Stakar.”

“After chewing him out with a plug up my ass, nothing about this shindig could possibly scare me,” says Rocket, and Kraglin bursts out laughing.

He grabs his side a second later with a moan of pain. “Goddammit, Rocket! Quit makin’ me laugh.”

“When did—?” Yondu frowns. “No, don’t tell me. I changed my mind.”

“So Aleta’s your mom, huh?” Rocket moves over to make room on the bed for Yondu. 

Yondu looks a little sheepish as he sits his ass next to Rocket’s. “Well, in my line o’ work we don’t exactly brag about our mamas. Quill’s the exception.”

“In so many ways,” Rocket says dryly.

Yondu snorts. “She an’ Charlie ruled against exilin’ me,” he says softly. “Only ones that did. It don’t look like she ever forgave Stakar for it neither.”

“I wouldn’t, if it was my kid,” says Rocket.

Kraglin nods. “An’ she always let us get away with sneakin’ through her stretch o’ space, even though she had t’ know we was there.”

Yondu nods. “She kept t’ the Code an’ didn’t speak t’ me, but she helped me where she could.”

“Does Stakar know that?” asks Rocket.

Yondu shrugs. “I ain’t plannin’ on sayin’ anything.”

Probably for the best. Those two can fight their own battles. Aleta strikes Rocket as being more than capable of holding her own against Stakar.

“I’m glad you got that back,” Rocket says, and he realizes he means it. He don’t like putting up with Stakar, and he don’t trust Martinex not to try to move in on Yondu, but it’s better than Yondu feeling like he ain’t worthy of them.

“Look at you, bein’ the bigger person.” Yondu smirks at him. 

“You still act weird when they’re around,” Rocket points out. 

“It’s true,” Kraglin says softly when Yondu makes a face. “Don’t think ya mean to, but you’re more like you was when I first joined up.”

“An’ that’s a bad thing?” Yondu gives them both a narrow look like he’s trying to decide if he should get defensive.

Rocket sighs. “It ain’t the you I’m used to,” he says. He looks down; there’s still a loose thread on his suit leg. “I sorta liked the washed-up old bastard who burned it all down for his kid.”

Yondu stares at him. 

Rocket picks at the loose thread. He doesn’t wanna look at Yondu.

“I’m right here, boy,” Yondu finally says, soft and scratchy. It’s the best sound in the galaxy, when Yondu talks to him in that voice.

He looks up and meets those bright red eyes.

“C’mere.” Yondu holds out a hand and Rocket goes, helpless as always to resist the bastard.

He crawls to Yondu and lets that big hand settle just right on the back of his neck, closing his eyes when fingers scratch through his fur.

“You know you matter the most, right?” says Yondu. “You two an’ Quill, you matter the most.”

Rocket turns his head to lap at Yondu’s thumb. “You know I don’t know shit,” he says quietly.

“Well, now ya know.” Yondu curls his fingers under Rocket’s chin and lifts his face so he can’t look away. “You’re me, ain’t ya?”

“Yeah,” Rocket whispers. 

“Say it.”

Rocket swallows, feeling those red eyes pull him open. “I’m you.” 

“Thas’ right,” Yondu murmurs, stroking under Rocket’s chin. It makes him tilt his head back, baring his throat. “You remember that, boy. We’re jus’ the same.”

Rocket closes his eyes, shivers breaking out all over his body. His throat is his weak spot, and having Yondu’s hand on it melts right through all his defenses to turn him pliant and sweet.

“ _God,_ you two are pretty together.” Kraglin’s voice makes his eyes snap open, and he looks over a little guiltily to see Kraglin watching them with dark eyes. The front of his ratty underwear is tented, the purple tip of his cock poking out through the slit in the front.

Oh.

“Krags...” Yondu sounds awkward, and Rocket gets it. They don’t start shit with just two, not when the other one ain’t involved. Sure, stuff happens. There’s been times when Rocket’s come back to the room to see them humping away on the bed, but it’s different. And yeah, they all fuck around on their own, but not in front of each other without an offer to join.

But the heat in Kraglin’s eyes makes Rocket squirm in a good way. It feels dirty, somehow, the thought of doing what he does with Yondu while Kraglin watches. Letting Yondu pet him and tell him how pretty he is, with Kraglin seeing him that way.

“You wanna watch?” Rocket asks, just to be sure. And because saying it out loud makes him feel extra nasty. “Is that what you’re saying, ya big pervert? Thought you were over watchin’ him with other people.”

Kraglin swallows. “What other people? Ya just said you’re him an’ he’s you.”

It’s weird, but it makes Rocket’s breath catch. He looks quickly at Yondu, who looks a little stunned.

“Kraglin,” he says again, but Kraglin cuts him off.

“Please, Cap’n?”

And that stops the words in Yondu’s throat. Rocket sees him swallow, throat bobbing, and nod once. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Okay.”

Rocket gets his jumpsuit off and flings it to the side before slipping off the bed to help Yondu get his boots.

Yondu lets him with a fond little smile, then stands up to get his coat and the rest of it off. Rocket watches him eagerly, licking his lips as more blue skin comes into view.

Yondu steps out of his underwear and turns back to Rocket with his hands on his hips. “You gonna stay all th’ way over there?” he asks playfully.

Rocket grins. “Figured you’d wanna sit, old man. Easier on your knees.”

“My knees are jus’ fine,” Yondu grumbles, but he takes Rocket’s advice and sits. “They was just replaced two years ago.”

“Practically new.” Rocket rolls his eyes and climbs back up next to Yondu. He can still feel Kraglin’s eyes on him, but Kraglin ain’t interrupting.

“That’s right.” Yondu pulls Rocket into his lap, one big hand on his waist. Rocket straddles thick thighs and shivers at how wide he has to spread to do it. His cock slips out of its sheath.

Yondu scoots him closer, and it makes their cocks brush together. Rocket gasps, already sensitive, and Yondu makes a low, rumbling sound. 

“Oh, that’s good, ain’t it?” he whispers, squeezing Rocket’s waist. “You’re already wet for me, ain’t ya, boy?”

Rocket nods, leaning against Yondu’s chest. He rests his hands against his stomach for balance and they catch on the lip of his pouch.

Both of them pause and look down. 

Rocket doesn’t mess with Yondu’s pouch. He knows his nipples are sensitive, but he also knows Yondu’s got a thing about it. It’s a lot like his thing about smells; he don’t appreciate them bringing it up, so he returns the favor. But Yondu’s breath hitches, and when Rocket looks up, his pupils are blown.

“You want me to?” Rocket asks softly.

Yondu doesn’t answer, just lifts one of Rocket’s hands away and brings it to his mouth. Rocket moans out loud when his tongue scrapes over his callused palm.

Yondu watches his face while he licks him, softening Rocket’s palm until it’s sensitive and Rocket’s shivering at the touch of his tongue. 

“Now,” Yondu whispers, guiding Rocket’s hand back down to his pouch. “Now I want you to.”

Rocket gulps and slips his hand inside. It’s hot, and the skin is softer than on the outside of Yondu’s body. Silky, even. Rocket’s fingers catch on a nipple and Yondu gasps, going tense all over. His cock throbs against Rocket’s.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Rocket whispers. “This is really good for you, isn’t it?”

Yondu nods, shutting his eyes tightly and squirming a little. 

Rocket uses his other hand to tug the lip of Yondu’s pouch down, just a little, and is rewarded when Yondu hisses at the rush of cool air across his nipples. He’s only got two that Rocket can see, although he supposes if he went fishing there might be more. They tighten, darker blue against his skin, and Rocket rubs the closest one with his thumb. 

Yondu actually cries out when Rocket’s claw catches a nipple, and Rocket feels a grin stretching his face.

“I bet I could lick ‘em while I fuck you,” he tells Yondu.

Yondu’s eyes widen. “Oh, _hell,_ ” he moans, his legs shifting wider apart. “Rocket...”

“I bet it’d be really good,” Rocket tells him. “I bet I could reach if I stretched. So your cock would rub on my belly while I did it.” He grins a little at the stunned, hot look on Yondu’s face. “Come on,” he whispers. “Wanna make us both feel good. We’re the same, right? Gettin’ you off gets me off.”

Yondu grips his waist almost painfully tight, but then lets him go to lay back. “Do it,” he says tightly. 

Rocket crawls over him and sees Kraglin hold out the lube from the corner of his eye. He looks up to Kraglin watching him with a hungry look.

“Enjoying the show?” he asks with a grin.

“You’re gorgeous,” Kraglin tells him in a hushed voice. “You’re both fuckin’ gorgeous.”

And okay, Rocket’s a slut for praise. He glows a little bit and takes the bottle of lube from Kraglin. The bed’s not that big, so Kraglin has to shift his leg to give Yondu enough room to spread out.

And god, does Rocket love being here between Yondu’s legs. He closes his eyes and nuzzles a muscular thigh, darting his tongue out just to get a taste of Yondu’s skin.

Yondu makes a soft noise at that, so Rocket looks up to see him staring, red eyes almost gleaming. 

He _is_ gorgeous, and he’s Rocket’s, and sometimes Rocket still can’t believe anything this good can be for him. But he’s gonna make damn sure he earns the right to keep it.

So he ducks his head and laps delicately over Yondu’s hole. He wants him nice and wet by the time Rocket fucks some lube into him. If he’s being really honest, he gets off on the dirty squelching noises that happen when they get carried away with spit and lube. 

And Yondu’s shivery moan makes his cock twitch. So he licks him again, sloppy and dirty, hands bracing Yondu’s thighs to keep him from trying to close them. And when spit’s dripping down Yondu’s crack, Rocket pulls back and squirts a big glob of lube over his own dick.

“You ready?” he asks roughly, and waits for Yondu’s frantic nod before he slides in.

He’s still not used to how intense it is; most of the time Rocket’s happy being the one getting played with, but feeling Yondu hot around him, clenching and _fluttering_ around his cock, is something he loves.

He thrusts a few times, just to savor the feeling, and then he leans forward with a filthy grin. “I could suck your cock like this too,” he tells Yondu casually, and bends to lick a bead of precum off the head just to prove it.

Yondu makes a punched-out noise at that. “You’re meaner’n Kraglin, boy,” he whispers.

“This?” Rocket licks the tip of his cock again. “This ain’t bein’ mean.” He stretches, shifting his hips to test how well he can thrust while he pulls Yondu’s pouch down. 

Yondu shouts and jerks, and yeah, Rocket can still fuck him good like this. He grins and leans down to cover one of those pretty blue nipples with his lips.

Yondu moans like he’s dying, hands gripping the covers so tight his knuckles go pale. “Fuck,” he pants. “Oh hell, fuck me, boy, come on.”

So Rocket does. He fucks Yondu slow and steady while he tongues at first one nipple, then the other, moving between them until Yondu’s got a hand shoved in his mouth to hold in the high, needy sounds he’s making. 

He’s never seen Yondu like this, not for him, and damn if it’s not the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

“You sound so hot right now,” he mutters, shaking from how good Yondu feels around him. “Don’t hold it in, okay? You don’t gotta hide nothin’ from me, ‘cause I’m you.”

Yondu groans deep in his chest, squirming on Rocket’s dick like he’s getting paid for it. “Faster, boy. Need it faster.”

“Nah.” Rocket keeps his steady pace. “Wanna take my time. Build it up nice and slow for you.” He presses a kiss to Yondu’s belly above his pouch, feeling it quiver under his lips. 

Yondu clenches around him, rolling his hips to try to get Rocket deeper. Rocket can feel his cock twitching against his stomach with every thrust. 

So he thrusts a little deeper, letting out a little moan of his own when Yondu sobs in relief. 

“ _Fuck,_ you fit me jus’ right,” he slurs, rocking shamelessly back into Rocket’s thrusts. “Goddamn perfect.”

“‘S ‘cause I’m you,” Rocket whispers, leaning a little more firmly between Yondu’s legs so his cock slides against his fur. It makes Yondu whine, and he loves it. 

He loves Yondu, so much it hurts in his chest. Seeing him laid out and desperate makes Rocket protective and possessive and all sorts of other things that probably don’t belong here. But Rocket, strictly speaking, don’t really belong here either; he’s as artificial as the plants in Nova Prime’s office. 

That don’t matter as much as it usually does when he’s here with Yondu and Kraglin. And right now? With Yondu so tight and hot around him? He feels like he actually has a purpose. 

“God, you feel so sweet when you squeeze me like that,” he growls as he licks Yondu’s nipple again.

Yondu gasps. “ _Shit,_ ” he pants, arching up toward Rocket’s mouth.

“I love it, you know. I love how you feel.” Rocket shivers at the sound Yondu makes when he hits his prostate just right on the next thrust. “Could stay here forever. Just like this.” He closes his lips around Yondu’s nipple and sucks, just a little.

And Yondu _breaks._

“Please, boy,” he gasps, shifting his legs so they’re spread wider for Rocket. “Want‘chu, want everything you got. Gimme that, c’mon. Fuck me, Rocket, I _need_ it.”

Rocket couldn’t resist Yondu if he tried. He puts his back into it, speeding up and fucking in deeper until Yondu’s making these gasping, punched-out sounds on every thrust. He’s got his head thrown back and his teeth clenched against his own moans, and he’s so gorgeous Rocket wants to die. 

“You gonna come?” he asks, gripping thick thighs for leverage as he thrusts particularly deep.

“ _Yes,_ ” gasps Yondu. “Jus’ a li’l more, baby, I’m real close.”

Rocket smirks. “Baby, huh?” He quirks an eyebrow when Yondu’s eyes pop open in confusion. “You gonna start callin’ me baby now?”

“What, you don’t like it?” Yondu’s voice is strained.

“I like it.” Rocket grins. “You should come now. All over me so I can smell you on myself for _days_.” He angles his next thrust to hit Yondu’s prostate hard, and gives a dirty little wriggle so Yondu’s cock rubs real nice through his fur.

It works; Yondu tenses and shouts and Rocket can feel him coming all over his stomach, ass clenching tight as a vice around him. It’s all Rocket can do to hold on, gripping his thighs to keep from being bucked off.

When Yondu comes down, goes limp and pliant, Rocket starts moving again. It’s gentler than before, but Rocket builds up the pace and enjoys the soft little sounds Yondu makes when Rocket hits his prostate.

“Sensitive?” he asks with a wicked grin.

“You’re gettin’ too much like Kraglin,” Yondu mutters balefully. “Fuckin’ sadist.”

Rocket laughs, a little shakily because he’s starting to get close himself. “I’ve never ruined your orgasms or spanked you while you’re wearin’ a butt plug, so I ain’t anywhere near as sadistic as Kraglin.”

“I’m sittin’ right here,” Kraglin says.

Rocket throws him a grin. “Ain’t he pretty like this? All loose an’ fucked-out?”

“You’re both pretty.” 

“When’d he spank you with a plug in?” asks Yondu. “An’ why wasn’t I there t’ see it?”

Rocket smirks. “Next time you can take a turn on me, okay?”

Yondu gives him a dirty, tired grin, and it’s stupid, but that’s what pushes Rocket over. He comes with a feral snarling noise and slumps over Yondu’s stomach, panting.

A big hand strokes the back of his neck. Rocket closes his eyes and pushes into it like a cat. 

“I’m debating whether I wanna eat my come outta your ass or leave it there so you smell like me,” he mutters.

“Fuckin’ hell,” says Yondu weakly. “You eat me out after a fuck like that an’ you’re likely t’ kill me. I ain’t as young as I used t’ be.”

Rocket lifts his head up and grins. “Then I guess you’re just gonna have to smell like me.” He lifts himself off Yondu, careful as he pulls out, and when he looks down, his whole front is smeared with come.

“I ain’t th’ only one who got marked,” says Yondu. He looks fairly pleased about it.

Maybe Rocket’s scent thing is rubbing off on them. 

“That,” says Kraglin, “was hotter’n any porno I ever seen.”

Rocket looks over at him. “You cream your pants?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at the mess in Kraglin’s underwear.

“Nah. Jerked off,” Kraglin grunts.

“What? No! You were supposed to be relaxing!”

“Worth it.” Kraglin grins lazily and reaches a hand out to pet Yondu’s arm.

Yondu catches his hand and squeezes it. Rocket eyes their laced fingers with a tiny smirk. Big tough Ravager captain likes holding hands. Well, no one’s gonna hear about it from Rocket. 

He shakes his head and hops off the bed to go replace Kraglin’s cold packs and get him his drugs. Clearly the idiot can’t be trusted to take care of himself if he’s jerkin’ it the day after getting his ass beat.

“Here.” He shoves the drugs into Kraglin’s free hand and plops the cold packs on his stomach. Then he goes into the bathroom and grabs a reasonably clean towel so he can wipe the bastard up. “Have to do fuckin’ everything around here. No wonder Quill’s so damn lazy,” he mutters as he shoves Kraglin’s underwear aside to wipe come off him.

“Thanks,” mumbles Kraglin, already half falling asleep.

“Useless,” Rocket grumbles. But he’s smiling.

—

Aleta waylays them on their way to breakfast the next morning. “Come on. Stakar’s quarters. He cooked, not me, so you don’t have to worry about it being edible.” She loops her arm through Yondu’s and steers him toward the lifts between decks.

Rocket stares after them, and then looks at Kraglin. 

The rest of the Guardians are crowded in Stakar’s main living space when they get there, which annoys Rocket because he’s usually the first one up after Gamora. Mantis is gazing at Aleta with a starstruck expression.

“Yondu,” she breathes when Aleta lets him go to bother Stakar, “your mother is _beautiful._ ”

Nebula looks livid. 

“Your girl’s got a type,” Rocket says to her, plopping down in the chair next to hers. “Think she’s down for threesomes?”

“I don’t share,” Nebula growls, and Mantis immediately turns to her with big shiny eyes.

“You will be even _more_ beautiful when we are old,” she says, and great, now Rocket’s embarrassed.

Nebula goes a deep, dark blue and reaches hastily for the coffee carafe on the table.

“Is this normal?” Quill asks Yondu in an undertone, looking mildly horrified.

“Nope.” To his credit, Yondu looks equally weirded out. “I think she’s doin’ it t’ punish Stakar.”

Rocket perks up. Now there’s a motivation he can get behind. “I should see if she needs help in the kitchen.”

“No,” says Yondu, but like hell is Rocket missing out on this.

He stops just outside the door at when he hears Aleta’s furious hiss. “—mean, leaving? He’s _leaving_ the Ravagers?”

“Way he described it t’ me was that he’s stayin’ with Quill’s crew.” Stakar sounds like he’s a breath away from telling her to calm down. 

“You did this,” she snarls. “You drove him off so completely he won’t even come back to us.”

“Aleta—”

Rocket has just enough time to back out of the way before she comes barreling through the door. She stops when she sees him and tilts her head.

“Listening outside doors, rat thing?”

“Didn’t really wanna walk into the middle of that,” he says. 

She concedes the point with a shrug. “I thought Yondu was at least considering rebuilding a crew,” she says, and the look she gives Rocket is hard.

“Yeah, Kraglin thought that too. But Yondu said he’s stayin’ with us, and I’m not complaining. Hell, I helped him kill off his last crew.”

Aleta purses her lips. In the brighter light, Rocket can see the laugh lines in the corners of her eyes, and the dark circles too. 

“Why weren’t you in the loop from the beginning?” he asks. “You’re his mom.”

Her smile is bitter. “Stakar and I haven’t been on great terms lately.”

“Sounds to me like you haven’t been on great terms since he exiled Yondu.”

“You’re nosy, rat thing. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Yeah, a couple times.” Rocket rubs his nose. “You got a problem with Yondu wantin’ to be a Guardian?”

He tries to say it casually, but Aleta ain’t stupid. She fixes him with a beady look. “Guardians of the Galaxy. It’s a stupid name.”

“Well, that’s what you get when you take an insult and run with it.” Rocket shrugs. “Ronan wasn’t exactly a poet.”

“Ronan the Accuser gave you that name? And you kept it?” Aleta looks skeptical.

“It sounded a lot cooler when Quill said it.” Rocket shrugs. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t.” She’s smiling now, which has to be a good sign. Or it means she’s gonna stab him, but he doesn’t think she’ll do it in front of witnesses.

Stakar, to Rocket’s disgust, is a better than decent cook. The quality of the food smooths over some of the awkwardness of having what’s essentially a family meal with Yondu’s parents.

Not a lot, though. “So the overhaul of the Quadrant is gettin’ close to being finished,” says Stakar over the sounds of chewing.

Quill keeps chewing at him with a narrow look. Someone kicks him under the table. “Yep. We’ll be out of your hair by the end of the month.”

Even hearing it makes shoulders loosen a little all around the table. 

“It’s a roomy ship for just the nine of you,” Aleta comments a little too casually. “Planning on picking up more crew?”

Yondu straightens up a little. “Aleta,” he begins, but she gives him a knife-sharp smile.

“Last I heard, you handed the captaincy over to your boy. What I don’t understand is why, when you have the backing of the Ninety-Nine and the opportunity for a new ship.”

“The _Eclector’s_ gone,” says Yondu in a final kind of way. He gives Aleta a long, stubborn look. “You mighta ignored it for thirty years, but I ain’t been one ‘a you since before I picked up Quill.”

“You have _always_ been one of us,” says Aleta fiercely.

Yondu gives her a small, sad smile, and Rocket realizes with a jolt that it’s the same look Yondu gave him on Ego’s planet. Right when he took the only space suit from Rocket’s hand. “I lost my crew fair an’ square, Aleta. The good ones to a mutiny, an’ the bad ones I killed myself. I blew the ship t’ hell an’ I took Kraglin with me. Ain’t a hundredth Ravager faction no more. Just us an’ my boy.”

She’s staring at him, stone-faced and pale, and it occurs to Rocket she didn’t realize before now that she’d have to let Yondu go. 

Yondu, god help them, is looking at her with this horrible understanding. Like he knows what she’s going through. 

But of course he does. He went through it himself when Quill left to join up with them. 

“I’m real pleased you want me t’ stay, Aleta, but I gotta go with my boy.”

Rocket steals a glance at Quill. The stunned look on his face is kind of surprising, but then, most people don’t see Yondu like Rocket does. He still plays the tough guy bullshit with Quill.

The scrape of a chair makes his ears flatten and pulls his attention back to the standoff happening. Aleta gets to her feet and leaves without another word.

Yondu closes his eyes.

“Oh hell,” mutters Stakar. He gets up with a heavy sigh and goes straight for the liquor cabinet. “You knew she was gonna make a thing of it, right?” he says to Yondu as he pours some fancy brown liquor into his coffee cup. “Typical Aleta. Give her some time, she’ll come around.”

It’s a long, awkward meal after that.

—

In retrospect, Rocket supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that Kraglin pulled this. Maybe if he hadn’t been distracted with Yondu’s family bullshit he might have caught it. As it is, well.

Kraglin looks pleased with himself as the bodies of the creeps who beat him up are taken down. Stakar’s crew found them early this morning strung up over the railings in the main hangar of the _Starhawk_ with their throats slit.

Rocket’s still not sure where Kraglin got the rope. He’s gonna have to check his bag later.

“Said you never saw their faces,” says Yondu with a sly curl of his lips.

“I lied,” Kraglin replies mildly.

And hey, it’s not like Rocket can’t understand wanting to take care of things personally. He just can’t figure out how Kraglin managed to leave without waking them up.

The Ravagers have a system for getting the bodies down; one guy up on the catwalk unties the knots in the rope and lowers them to another guy below, who probably pissed someone important off to get stuck with corpse catching duty.

Kraglin, Rocket, and Yondu watch as the last body slips and falls next to the corpse catcher with an echoing _crunch_ and a wet splat.

“Imagine sucking at a job like that,” says Rocket idly.

Kraglin bounced back pretty quick, all things considered; he still looks a little purply-blue around the middle, but he was back to training with Nebula inside a week, like he said.

Rocket wonders if she knows anything about this. Not that she’d talk.

Yondu shakes his head. “You was _supposed_ t’ let Stakar accuse ‘em,” he says to Kraglin, clearly trying to sound annoyed instead of delighted.

Kraglin gives Yondu a hard look. “Tullk an’ Oblo an’ Horuz didn’t die loyal t’ you so these smug fucks can spit on us. The hundredth clan might be gone, but we still got our honor.”

Yondu stares at him, scowl smoothing into an expression Rocket can’t read. Then his hand shoots out to grab Kraglin by the collar and pull him in for a fast, hard kiss.

Kraglin’s lip is oozing blue when Yondu lets him go. He’s blinking rapidly, trying to make sense of the fact that Yondu just kissed him. In public.

Rocket’s mouth falls open.

“You did good, Obfonteri,” Yondu mutters, and Rocket hears a world’s worth of other things in his words.

Kraglin does too, and he smiles a little. “‘S all for you, Cap’n.”

Apparently some people actually need to hear someone say they love ‘em. Rocket can’t figure out what’s so special about those three words, when there’s a million better ways to let ‘em know.

—

From there it’s a mad scramble back to their room before Stakar has a chance to make it down to yell at them personally. Yondu’s snickering like a naughty kid, hand latched onto Kraglin’s wrist as he tows him along in his wake.

Rocket can keep up easily on all fours, darting alongside them with a big grin on his face.

Suddenly it’s back to being them against the world, and he loves it.

Yondu shoves Kraglin back against the door as soon as they’re through it, bloodying his lip even more as he kisses him stupid. And Kraglin melts for him, hands coming up to cradle Yondu’s face and slowing the kiss into something tender and filthy.

Rocket can hear the hitching moans Kraglin’s making against Yondu’s mouth, and it reminds him.

“Hey, didn’t I promise to eat your ass if you were good?” he asks cheerfully.

Yondu breaks the kiss to turn and raise his eyebrows at him.

Kraglin gulps. “Uh, yeah,” he says. “Yeah, ya did.”

“Ain’t you lucky, Krags,” mutters Yondu, kissing down the tattooed side of Kraglin’s neck. “He got th’ sweetest tongue. Reckon you been real good, too.” He reaches down to grope the tented bulge in Kraglin’s jumpsuit.

Kraglin gives a helpless little moan. “C-Cap’n,” he whispers shakily, arching into Yondu’s hand.

“I don’t think we spoil him enough, do we, boy?” Yondu asks with a dirty wink at Rocket.

“Nope.” Rocket grins.

“What say we change that, huh? Whattaya think, you eat him out an’ I suck his gorgeous dick?”

Kraglin makes an eager little noise.

Rocket pretends to think about it. “Well,” he says slowly, watching Kraglin, “I figure he deserves somethin’ nice.”

“Good.” Yondu steps away from Kraglin and shrugs off his jacket. “Get undressed, darlin’. We got somethin’ for ya.”

Kraglin stays leaning against the door, thin chest heaving as he stares at Yondu with big blue eyes. 

“Kraglin,” says Rocket quietly. “Strip.”

He has to wonder if he looked at Kraglin like that the first time, wide-eyed and hungry. It takes Kraglin a minute or two to get moving, but by the time Yondu’s got his hundred thousand straps and buckles undone, Kraglin’s managed to slither out of his jumpsuit.

And then they’re kissing again, sitting on the bed while Yondu cups Kraglin’s face between his hands. 

As pretty as they are together—and they are, opposites in almost every way and all the more gorgeous for it—Rocket wants in. He hops onto the bed and snuggles up under Kraglin’s arm to nip at his jaw.

It gets his attention. “Hey princess,” Kraglin murmurs with a smile.

“Hey yourself.” Rocket grins. “As pretty as you look makin’ out, I kinda thought we should get to the good stuff.”

“Means he wants t’ taste you,” Yondu whispers huskily. “Wants you moanin’ an’ twitchin’ under his tongue.”

Kraglin shivers, and honestly? So does Rocket. Yondu don’t talk like that very often, and it sends something hot straight through the core of him.

“Yeah, I want that,” Rocket says, swallowing. “You want it too?”

“Yeah,” whispers Kraglin. He swallows. “Yeah, I want it.”

“Then why don’chu get down here an’ put that cock o’ yours in my face?” asks Yondu. He lays back and points to himself with a dirty grin, tongue curling over his crooked teeth.

Kraglin throws a leg over him and clambers aboard, all long gangly limbs. If he feels weird with his ass in Yondu’s face he doesn’t say anything, just rests his forehead on Yondu’s hip and presses a reverent kiss there.

Rocket’s chest does something funny. He swallows it down and climbs onto the bed. The view’s better from here; Yondu’s got both hands on Kraglin’s skinny ass and kneads at his cheeks, careful of the still-bruised one.

Rocket rests a hand on it. “This ain’t how I like to see your ass marked up, baby,” he tells Kraglin, smoothing his thumb along the edge of the bruise.

Kraglin hisses a little and cants his hips back. “You wanted t’ do it yourself?” he asks, and Rocket can hear the grin in his voice.

“Do I want us to be the only ones who get to leave marks on you? Bet your skinny little ass I do.” Rocket grins back even though Kraglin can’t see him. “You’re _mine,_ beanpole.”

“I liked baby better,” Kraglin mutters.

Rocket slaps his uninjured butt cheek and grins savagely at the yelp it gets him. He soothes the sting by running his tongue over the pretty purple flush, and that gets him a very different kind of moan.

“I’m beginnin’ t’ think you just like fuckin’ me mean,” Kraglin gasps.

“Nah.” Rocket spreads his cheeks and licks a long line from his taint to the top of his crack. “Well,” he adds as Kraglin lets out a shuddery moan, “not all the time.”

He leans forward again to lap at Kraglin’s hole, slurping wetly just because he knows Kraglin likes it dirty.

Kraglin groans when Yondu gets his mouth on him, his upper body sagging. He twitches his hips, like he can’t decide whether to rock back onto Rocket’s mouth or forward toward Yondu’s.

Rocket pulls back a second, pauses just to hear Yondu’s greedy, muffled sounds while he sucks Kraglin, and then he dives back in. The shocked noise Kraglin makes when Rocket pushes the tip of his tongue inside has Rocket’s dick sliding out.

“So good for us,” he mutters as he pulls back again. “Listen to you, moanin’ like a five-credit whore. We got you nice an’ worked up, huh? Two mouths on you at once.”

“Oh _fuck,_ ” whispers Kraglin. 

Rocket blows a puff of air over his hole and watches it flutter. He ain’t too worried about being a tease; the steady roll of Kraglin’s hips and the rhythmic grunts he’s making tell him Yondu’s got him covered. And Rocket knows exactly how good Yondu is at sucking cock.

Besides, Kraglin’s not wrong. Rocket _does_ like to fuck him mean.

But he knows this ain’t the time for it. So he leans back in, traces his tongue real slow around the twitching muscle. Goosebumps break out over Kraglin’s skin, and he whines as Yondu pulls off to breathe.

Rocket goes slow now that all Kraglin’s attention is on him, giving him soft, lingering little licks that make his breath hitch and his thighs spread a little wider. He likes it like this, Rocket can tell by the way his scent changes. 

And it makes him wanna be a little sweeter, feeling the vulnerable skin under his tongue. He ducks his head to mouth carefully at Kraglin’s balls, which gets him a choked groan. His chin brushes Yondu’s forehead, and the thought of them together in this, sharing Kraglin between them, makes Rocket whine. 

So he licks the side of Yondu’s head, enjoying the taste of his skin and how it mixes with Kraglin’s. A big hand curls around the back of Rocket’s neck, and his eyes slide closed as he lets it guide him back between Kraglin’s cheeks.

Kraglin cries out when Rocket pushes his tongue inside him again, trailing off into harsh panting when he begins to fuck it repeatedly into him. It makes Rocket’s face ache a little, but it’s worth it for the way Kraglin’s back arches prettily for him.

“O-oh fuck,” gasps Kraglin. “Fuck, I ain’t gonna last long with you two—” he breaks off with a sharp gasp, and Rocket would pay good money to know what Yondu did with his mouth to get that reaction.

Then again, he can imagine it. He’s never been where Kraglin is, but he thinks he’d like to. He wonders how long he’d be able to hold out with both their mouths on him.

But Rocket can think about that later; right now he concentrates on keeping a steady pace. In, out, slurp around the rim to make Kraglin shake, and then back in. He’s always been good at figuring out how to take things apart, and Kraglin’s no exception. 

Rocket runs a hand up one of Kraglin’s trembling thighs and pulls back enough to growl “come now,” before slobbering all over Kraglin’s asshole.

And Kraglin does.

His ass clenches up tight and he _wails_ as he comes down Yondu’s throat. Big hands on his hips hold him right where Yondu wants him, forcing him to keep taking it until he sobs and Yondu lets him go.

Rocket pets his lower back when he curls up on his side, tucking himself next to Yondu. “You did so good, baby,” he purrs as he presses himself against Kraglin’s back. “Looked real pretty lettin’ us have you like that.”

Kraglin shivers, turning his head to give Rocket a wobbly smile. 

Yondu slings an arm around Kraglin’s skinny waist, taking more care with his bruises than most people would think him capable of. He pets idly up and down Kraglin’s back, lips quirking when Kraglin melts into the touch.

Rocket nips gently at his fingers when they get close enough, and a raspy chuckle is his response.

That’s when the pounding on the door starts.

“ _Yondu!_ ”

—

To say Stakar’s pissed about the dead guys getting trussed up in his hangar is a slight understatement.

Once they all scrambled back into their clothes, Yondu bellowing the whole time about how Stakar _better not come in here ‘fore they’re good an’ ready,_ they had to sit and take it while Stakar chewed them out.

Rocket doesn’t point out that Yondu’s got a little come in his beard. Let Stakar feel embarrassed about interrupting. At least Kraglin got his; he earned it.

“—completely disregards my orders, Yondu! What am I supposed to tell my guys, huh?”

“You tell ‘em not t’ fuck with the Guardians of the Galaxy,” snaps Yondu. 

Stakar stops dead.

Kraglin gives Yondu a sideways look.

And Rocket sits up a little straighter, whiskers lifting proudly.

After a beat, Stakar says “I see,” in a real quiet voice. 

“To be fair,” Rocket butts in, since he’s never been too good at keeping his mouth shut around Stakar, “you did say those bastards were ours. So your ass is covered, if we’re bein’ technical.”

Stakar rubs his forehead. “Shit,” he mutters, “‘S like I got two o’ you runnin’ around.”

“That’s ‘cause we’re the same,” says Rocket.

“Yondu?” Stakar left the door open, so Quill takes that as permission to poke his head in. “What the hell’s going on? Why can’t I get into the hangar?” He blinks at Stakar. “Why are you getting yelled at?”

“Somethin’ jogged Kraglin’s memory ‘bout those assholes who jumped him,” says Yondu sagely. “So we took care of it. Might wanna keep the twig outta there until they finish cleanin’ up.”

Quill blanches. “Oh.” He looks at Stakar again. “You did say we could handle it,” he points out.

“Quit copyin’ me,” mutters Rocket. “We just discussed this like thirty seconds ago.”

“Well, I wasn’t here for that, was I?”

“You always were a little slow, Star-Munch.”

“Hey Rocket, eat my entire ass.”

“You ain’t my type, Quill.”

Yondu slips an arm around Rocket. “Cut it out.”

Stakar’s eyebrows are almost touching his hairline. “I would really hate t’ cut this fascinating exchange short,” he says ironically, “but there’s the little matter of the five dead guys in my hangar.”

“Why are they still there? It can’t take that long to clear out the bodies.” Quill eyes him.

“They was Code breakers,” says Kraglin; it’s the first time he’s spoken since Stakar came through the door. “You said we was Ravagers again, an’ Ravagers don’t attack their own.”

“And how the hell do I explain that when you just declared yourselves Guardians of the Galaxy?” asks Stakar.

“You—” Quill snaps his mouth shut, but he beams at Yondu. Then he pauses. “I thought guest rights covered outsiders too.”

Now it’s Yondu’s turn to look proud as Stakar rounds on Quill in surprise. 

“You know the Code,” he says flatly.

“Well, yeah.” Quill gives Stakar a weird look. 

And Stakar caves with a smile. “Of course ya do,” he says, clapping Quill on the shoulder. “Confusion comes from the fact that it was Obfonteri what killed ‘em, an’ he swore the oaths once upon a time.”

“Security cameras got proof it was him?” asks Quill with that charming grin that works on everyone but Gamora. “Wouldn’t put it past Rocket. He left a turd in my pillowcase once.”

“Totally had it comin’,” Rocket chimes in.

Stakar raises an eyebrow. “Trouble raises trouble,” he mutters with a rueful smile. “Fine. Hell with it. Guest rights got violated, you guys retaliated. We’re square.”

Quill’s grin turns a little more sincere. “Glad we got everything straightened out. Rocket, when you get a chance I wanted to go over the intercoms in the Quadrant. I know you’re down for beefing up the sound system.”

“It’s gonna sound like they’re singin’ right to you when I’m done with it,” Rocket tells him with a wide grin.

Quill’s finger guns get him a weird look from Stakar, but he ignores it. “Awesome. See you in there after they clean up the guys you totally killed.”

Rocket winks.

Yondu shakes his head at the pair of them, running a hand over his beard before freezing as he scrapes over the come crusted there. “Well,” he snaps, “now we got everything settled, how ‘bout y’all get the hell outta my room? This ain’t a goddamn conference hall.”

Stakar raises an eyebrow, but turns to go with a shrug. He’s almost at the door before Quill catches a clue and squawks, “that better not be what I think it is, old man!”

“ _Out!_ ” bellows Yondu, and Rocket can’t decide what’s funnier, the outraged disgust on Quill’s face or the long-suffering resignation on Stakar’s.

—

“You didn’t have t’ laugh so damn hard,” says Yondu sourly.

“I definitely did. Did you see their faces?” Rocket cackles, pounding the table. “I wish I had a camera!” He might be a little drunk. 

Stakar wasn’t wrong about Ravagers being able to throw a real rager when the occasion calls for it. Once Aleta found out the situation was all taken care of, she declared that it was time for her party and that was that.

So now Rocket’s watching Martinex and Drax arm wrestle in the middle of the room while money changes hands and Alice Cooper plays loudly over the speakers Rocket and Quill set up.

Aleta likes Quill’s music, further cementing her in Rocket’s mind as the only decent member of Yondu’s old family. She’s perched on the arm of Stakar’s chair, their heads bent together. 

Rocket ain’t sure what they’re talking about, but he sorta hopes they can work their shit out. 

Drax’s triumphant bellow tells Rocket who won the arm wrestling, and he smirks at the good natured grumbling of the Ravagers who bet on Martinex.

Kraglin snorts. “The hell was he thinkin’? Drax could crush him with one hand.”

“That’s th’ fun of it, Krags.” Yondu’s rolling bottle caps back and forth with Groot. It’s the cutest damn thing Rocket’s ever seen.

“I am Groot!”

“Think faster, Twig.” Yondu flicks one at Groot and smirks when a vine shoots out to catch it.

“I am Groot,” he mutters huffily, and Yondu chucks him gently under the chin.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get’chu back t’ Quill, hm?” He scoops up Groot and sets him on his shoulder as he goes to find where Quill wandered off to.

Kraglin shakes his head and picks up his beer. “Always was a sucker for cute little shit.”

Rocket smirks. He knows Kraglin ain’t much for kids, but he put up with Quill for Yondu’s sake and he puts up with Groot for Rocket’s. It’s damn sweet of him, really.

“Um, mind if I sit?”

They both turn on Martinex and raise their eyebrows. Rocket gives the guy credit for holding their unfriendly stares without flinching. Then again, he is one of the seven Ravager heads. 

Kraglin doesn’t say anything, but he must be feeling generous because he kicks the chair out.

Martinex slides into the seat.

There’s a few moments of uncomfortable silence before he speaks up. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you, Obfonteri. And I haven’t really had the chance.”

Kraglin gives him a dark look over his beer. “Nothin’ stoppin’ ya now.”

Martinex swallows. “Killin’ those guys...it was the right move. Even if Stakar didn’t approve it.” He looks guiltily over his shoulder, like Stakar might be looming there to hear him disagree. “Insult to your people like that can’t go unpunished, not when there’s so many of the young ones who don’t recognize your clan or remember what Yondu means to us.”

Kraglin just stares at him. 

“You always looked out for him, didn’t you?” Martinex gives a soft, self-deprecating smile. “Even when he wouldn’t look out for himself.”

“Weren’t no one else gonna do it,” says Kraglin, so quiet Rocket can barely hear him over Bowie in the background.

Martinex stares at him, crystalline brows drawing tight over his yellow eyes. “I loved him too, you know,” he says in a low voice. “I think I always will. And I remember hating you _so much_ at the trial, because you told us exactly what we really were. Bunch of fucking hypocrites, that’s what you called us. And you know what? You were right.” He sits back and takes a deep breath. “You stayed when everyone else walked away. He left me because of you, and he made the right choice. I gotta live with that.”

Rocket glances at Kraglin, who looks a little stunned.

“Anyway,” mutters Martinex, “I just thought you oughta know that.” He nods before he slips off the chair and into the crowd.

“Wow,” says Rocket. “That ain’t what I expected.”

Kraglin’s bushy eyebrows are furrowed, and he sips his beer thoughtfully. He doesn’t say anything.

So Rocket keeps quiet and lets him think, sipping whatever it was Yondu brought him. He knows Kraglin’s not over the mutiny that killed all his friends, or the fact that their clan is gone. The shame of letting Yondu down like that ain’t going away anytime soon, but Rocket hopes he won’t beat himself up too bad over it.

He frowns. “Kraglin?”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t let them beat the shit outta you because you felt bad about the mutiny, did you?”

Kraglin turns to stare at him. “I—”

Rocket rests his chin in his hand and quirks an eyebrow.

Kraglin sighs. “Had a couple reasons not t’ fight back,” he mutters, which is as good as a confession. “Don’t tell him.”

“I won’t.” Rocket studies him. “Just don’t do it again.”

Kraglin looks at him.

“I mean it,” says Rocket.

They stare each other down, and Rocket almost doesn’t notice the gentle guitar chords that twang through the room until Yondu yells.

“ _Quill!_ Don’chu fuckin’ _dare_ change that song!”

“Why? I was gonna—oh _dude._ Oh my god. This is your song, isn’t it? I hate you. How could you ruin Jay and the Americans for me?”

And Rocket starts laughing, helplessly, as Kraglin’s mouth curls into a smile. Then they’re both laughing, and Rocket’s leaning on Kraglin’s arm feeling buzzed and happy and really, stupidly in love.

—

The Quadrant is done.

Rocket stands next to Quill in the hangar, staring up at it proudly. It hardly looks like the same ship. 

The rusted hull now gleams with brand new plating, and the engines purr like a kitten. Inside, the life support and water filters are state of the art, and they have improved steering and nav functions. The weaponry was all designed by Rocket—meaning it’s goddamn flawless—there’s room for two M-ships in the hangar, and the sleeping quarters were upgraded to allow everyone private bathrooms.

“It’s perfect,” says Rocket happily.

“You should’ve let me pick the paint colors,” Quill tells him.

“No friggin’ way. You got outvoted fair and square. Everyone saw what you did with the _Milano._ ”

Quill grunts. “It’ll be good to be home,” he says after a minute.

“Yeah.” Rocket scratches his nose. “I’ve had about enough Ravager politics to last me the rest of my life.”

“You’re the one who started sleeping with two of ‘em,” Quill points out.

“Who I only met because you got your ass grounded at thirty-five,” says Rocket smugly.

Quill scowls. “Shut up. I wasn’t grounded.”

“Totally grounded.”

Quill rolls his eyes. “Putting a bounty on my head is not getting grounded.”

“He ever do that before you ran off with the orb?” asks Rocket slyly.

“That is not the point.”

“He did! That’s the Ravager equivalent of bein’ grounded!” 

Quill glares at him. “Anyway,” he says loudly, “I figure we can pack all our stuff and head out by the end of the week. We’re all stocked, right?”

“Yeah. And you’ll be happy to know I stopped Yondu from getting more shitty toilet paper.”

“Thank you.” Quill grins. “I don’t wanna know how you did it, but thanks.”

“Oh, it was my pleasure.” Rocket grins back with too many teeth.

“Rule number one!” Quill glares at him and Rocket laughs.

All of them are used to living light and packing quickly, so it don’t take more than a day to get everything but the most basic necessities moved back onto the Quadrant. Mantis and Drax have this big feast planned for their first night back in the ship, and Rocket would be lying if he tried to say he’s not looking forward to it. Drax is a damn good cook.

The only one who isn’t dying to get outta here is Yondu. As their departure date gets closer, he spends more and more of his time with the Ravagers, especially Aleta. Rocket’s barely seen him for about two days. 

He figures it says good things about him that he ain’t jealous about it. After all, he’s gonna have Yondu all to himself again soon enough. Let the guy hang out with his parents after thirty years of not talking.

Rocket plops his ass down next to Nebula in the mess hall, mentally tallying any last minute crap they’re gonna need before they leave Xandar’s orbit in the morning. He figures it goes without saying that she’s sticking around; she bunks in with Mantis more nights than not, and unfortunately for Rocket, his sense of smell is good enough to let him know they ain’t having platonic sleepovers. 

He tried giving Nebula shit over it, but she came back at him with some stuff Kraglin definitely had no business sharing. Whatever. Ain’t like she didn’t know anyway. And he supposes he don’t mind her knowing stuff like that.

The morning of their departure is busy as hell; Nebula and Quill are both taking their M-ships out separately so they can dock once the Quadrant is clear of the _Starhawk._ It’s mostly a formality when Stakar and Aleta step onto the bridge together to see the Guardians off.

“We spoke to the clan heads last night,” Stakar tells Quill, “and we came to the agreement that the hundredth Ravager clan will be formally dissolved.”

Kraglin’s shoulders tense unhappily.

“That said,” Stakar adds, “the Guardians of the Galaxy are the direct descendants of that clan. So we’ve decided to give you honorary status among the Ravagers. You keep to the Code, you’ll receive all the protections and courtesies that we’d extend to our own, without bein’ required to take the oaths.”

Quill blinks. “Thank you,” he says sincerely. He glances at Yondu. “That means a lot to us.”

“You’re family, kid,” Stakar mutters gruffly, clapping Quill on the shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger.”

Aleta steps away from her husband’s side and goes to Yondu. “Wherever you are,” she says, “we will come if you need us.”

Yondu gives her a crooked smile. “I know,” he says, and his voice is just as rough as hers. When she reaches up to grip his face, he curls his hands around her wrists and leans down so she can press her forehead tightly against his.

“Never forget you’re my boy,” she whispers harshly.

Yondu sighs, nodding once.

Everyone else politely finds somewhere else to look until she pulls back. She gives Quill a shoulder squeeze that has him wincing, and then she steps back beside Stakar. 

“I had something made for all of you,” she says, crossing her arms a little defensively and nudging the box by her feet. Rocket hadn’t noticed it before now.

It’s Groot who goes for the box first, always curious. He uses his little vines to lift the lid off and then scowls when it turns out not to be candy. 

Aleta winks and tosses a round tin of fruit chews at him. He catches it with a triumphant noise.

“What is that?” Quill leans over the box and lifts out a long red leather jacket. His face goes slack. “You...” He stares at Aleta. “You’re serious?”

“I got the measurements when your clothes came through the laundry. Except for you, Obfonteri. You never washed anything.” Aleta raises her eyebrows at Kraglin.

Nebula shoots Kraglin a disgusted look and edges closer, along with Gamora, who goes silent when Quill passes her the coat.

“These are uniforms,” she says. 

“Every clan has its colors,” says Aleta simply.

Gamora turns the coat around to reveal an insignia on the chest. The seven-tongued Ravager flame is superimposed with the symbol of the Nova Empire inside a circle. 

Everyone goes quiet for a long moment.

“Thank you,” says Quill in a hushed voice.

Aleta nods once.

After Stakar and Aleta leave, it kinda goes without saying that they all change into the new clothes. This isn’t the first time Rocket’s seen himself in Yondu’s colors, but it means something now. And he likes the new symbol, as corny as it is.

Yondu’s new stuff is mostly the same; Kree-style sleeveless coat and a fuckton of buckles. And considering Kraglin ain’t done laundry since Quill was a kid, Aleta got the sizing pretty close. His new jumpsuit don’t sag as much in the ass, which Rocket can appreciate.

It’s weird seeing them all in uniform; Mantis keeps twirling so her tunic flares out, and Nebula seems to think it’s cute. Drax probably has a jacket somewhere that’s never gonna get worn, but Aleta don’t need to know that. And Quill and Gamora both have long coats with captain’s insignia on the chests.

They look pretty good, all things considered.

“Well,” says Quill after a minute, “I guess this is it.”

Gamora gives him a warm smile. “Go. We’ll take it from here.”

Quill nods, and Nebula falls in with him as they both go to get their M-ships.

“That’s our cue,” says Rocket, and he heads to the bridge with Kraglin and Gamora. 

The Quadrant pilots almost as sweet as an M-ship now, and Kraglin shoots him a grin at the way the navs respond. They catch a glimpse of Stakar and Aleta watching from the hangar, with Martinex hanging back a little. 

“All cleared for launch,” Kraglin announces, and on Gamora’s nod, they take her out into the black.

Quill and Nebula follow after, the garish colors of the _Milano_ bright against the silvery _Starhawk._ He does a few loops just to show off.

Rocket rolls his eyes and opens the hangar. It don’t take them more than ten minutes to park, and then it’s done.

Last time they left Xandar it was just the five of them. Now they got a new ship, a new look, new crew, and a bunch of new backup.

Rocket grins. Galaxy ain’t gonna know what hit it.


End file.
